


When We Breathe

by Kristylee



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Genderfluid Will Graham, Hand Jobs, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 03:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristylee/pseuds/Kristylee
Summary: 1990s college AU where Will and Hannibal meet and become immediately smitten with one another.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 121





	When We Breathe

Hannibal doesn't really fit into the crowd. A bunch of theater chicks reading their spoken word poetry about feminism and past sexual assaults, but Alana practically forced him to come see her new girlfriend perform. 

“Besides, I think you might like Will. He's a freshman this year.”

He orders a black coffee and lights a cigarette in their corner booth just as a pile of limbs falls into place beside him. Long, chocolate dark curls and a patched denim jacket and short shorts. The smell of bubblegum and weed permeates the body, who turns to look at him.

A bright, crooked smile and shining blue eyes meet his own gaze and he's struck dumb momentarily. Somewhere across the table, Alana says, “Hannibal, this is Will.”

Will says hi a little breathlessly. There's lip gloss on his mouth and Hannibal can't tear his eyes away. He simply nods. He drags his hand through his hair and looks to the stage and then to Will again who takes a sip of Alana’s herbal tea. 

Beverly takes the stage and she's Alana’s girl so really he should be paying attention so he can comment later on the content or her mood or whatever, but Will orders a hazelnut cappuccino and licks the foam from his top lip and it aches. He smells sweet, he looks sweet, innocent and pure. He twirls a finger around a curl loose against his shoulder. He nods at a line Beverly says, totally into the performance of it all. Hannibal lights another cigarette on the end of his first one, and Will looks at him then.

“Smoker, huh?”

His voice is rich and smooth and quiet. 

Hannibal whispers, “Is it bothering you? I can put it out.”

Will shakes his head and tucks his hair behind an ear. “Not if you give me one, it's not.” He leans close and looks at Hannibal through his lashes and accepts his cigarette with a small ‘thanks.’ Hannibal lights it for him, hands nervous.

Will nods again and when the light hits his eyes, they're dark blue like the ocean. Hannibal leaves the pack and the matches on the table between them as an offering, in case Will wants another.

Beverly leaves the stage and Hannibal claps only because Will does. She comes to their table and kisses Alana’s cheek. Vaguely her poem was about sex with women, metaphors light, words literal. 

“That was great,” Will gushes. “So erotic.”

Hannibal glances at Will and then to Bev. He nods in agreement. He leans against the wall and runs his fingers through his hair again. 

Beverly shares Alana’s tea and then it starts to feel like a double date, like a set up. Will sips his coffee and looks over at Hannibal. 

“What?” Will giggles.

“Nothing. Just...looking.”

“Oh,” he blushes. “Okay.” He tucks his hair to one side of his neck, exposing the pale skin to Hannibal. It's unintentional, Hannibal thinks, or maybe not. Maybe it's an invitation. 

Will slips off his jacket. He's wearing a tight possibly too small Third Eye Blind band t-shirt and Hannibal smiles to himself. 

Bev and Alana sneak off to the bathroom and he and Will are alone with their coffee and cigarettes. 

“Cool shirt,” Hannibal offers. He cringes because it sounds so stupid. 

Will blows his smoke across the table and grins halfway through it. “Thanks. It's old, but I love them.”

“Me too.”

“Cool.”

Hannibal smokes in silence for an awkward moment, the noise of the coffee shop around them both, another performer on the small stage. (A guy this time, speaking of the one girl that got away. It rhymes every other line and Hannibal thinks it's trite.)

“Alana says you're a freshman.”

“Oh yeah. Just found my dorm today. Weird room mate, but it'll be fine.”

“I had a strange dorm mate my first year. His name was Mason and he was some kind of freak, I'll tell you, man.”

Will laughs, nods and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Frederick. He's so uptight. Psychology major.”

“That explains it.” they laugh again and it's shared, smoke rings.

“What's your major, Will? Have you decided?” 

Will licks foam from his drink off his finger and smiles. “I have to get a BA in forensics or criminology before I can apply to the police academy, so I'm double majoring.”

Hannibal's eyebrows go up. “Oh really? Quite impressive.” 

“Thanks.” Alana and Beverly come back to the table. “I'm here on a scholarship so I really can't fuck it up.”

“What are we discussing, boys?”

Hannibal says, “Will's brilliant mind, apparently.” He smirks and it makes Will blush. The boy murmurs a ‘no’ under his breath.

“Yeah, Alana says you're going to apply to the academy. Forensics, right? I can loan you my books if the professors are the same. I never sold them back.”

“Yes, oh shit, that would be perfect. You're a forensics major?” His eyes are bright, excited. Hannibal smiles softly at the boy, and he doesn't see.

Alana sees. She kicks Hannibal under the table and sticks her tongue out, mouths “told you.” Will and Beverly talk about insect analysis and Hannibal is enraptured.

\---

Hannibal goes home to his shitty apartment off campus without Will’s phone number and no way to contact him again. He's wired from too much coffee and bright eyes. He lies in bed and thinks about Will. 

Will’s weird fashion, how he dressed mostly like a girl (his shoes pink, lip gloss on his mouth.) Will’s hair that smelled like bubblegum. His long legs in those tiny shorts. Hannibal is smitten, so much so that he got too nervous and didn't ask for his number. A strange, smart, gorgeous boy, who is almost totally out of reach. But a criminology major, so he won't be hard to find, schlepping about the sciences buildings. 

Hannibal decides he will skip class tomorrow morning and look for this boy, work up the nerve to ask for his phone number.

He smokes and eats bowl after bowl of Lucky Charms. The night grows old and the sky starts to open up gray and pink. He's spent the night awake thinking of the potential conversations he might have with Will if he can catch him. 

Hannibal jacks off in the shower, hurried and with a blur of dark hair and a gloss sticky mouth in his mind. He tells himself it could have been anybody. 

With some flirting with the girl at the registrar office, he is able to obtain Will’s class schedule. There's hardly time between lectures, but there is an open forty five minutes after his first class of the morning, which is an ungodly 8am prerequisite of English. He pockets the paper and heads to the lecture hall.

The campus is hardly empty, new freshmen and returning upperclassmen taking early classes to get most of their drinking done before night fall. Hannibal lights a cigarette and walks across the soccer field to get to the building he needs. Occasionally he waves at familiar faces, but he has tunnel vision for room 107, where Will sits, probably half asleep. He smiles at that, tying his hair back high on the back of his head, wisps tickling his cheeks. He wonders what Will’s hair looks like this morning.

The halls are quiet, every room full. He hasn't been in this building since his freshman year. (As a biology major, all of Hannibal’s classes reside on the east end of campus for labs.) As he follows the numbers on each door, he gets more excited, wrecked to see Will. There, 107.

Hannibal peeks through the glass of the double doors that look into the auditorium filled with students. There's maybe fifty people in the class, but Will is easy to spot. 

Will’s hair is half pulled back, half balancing on his shoulders, curls wild. His Converse are the same from last night, pink and a little dirty. Jeans tight, shirt tighter. Hannibal smiles to himself. He wants to sneak in and sit next to Will. Pass notes back and forth, like this is high school. Do you like me, check yes or no. He's seen his sister keep notes like that. But Hannibal won't go in, because he knows the professor and will get kicked out immediately for being in the wrong class. 

So he waits. He sits by the door, pulls a notebook from his back pack and starts to sketch out a body. He tells himself it's for class, but there is too much detail in the eyelashes, the blush of the cheeks to be an anatomical drawing. 

Enamored could be the right word. Smitten, perhaps. All Hannibal can think about is kissing Will's neck, where the pulse thrums, where his hair catches and curls. The scent of strawberry bubblegum strong along his jawline. Hannibal bites his tongue and stills his pencil over the paper. Lost, he thinks. He is lost on Will. He could lose himself so dreamily in all that skin, soft and pink with heated touches. In that quick mind, blurred with intelligence and good music. Hannibal closes his eyes and breathes deeply recalling last night; cigarettes and hazelnut coffee.

He stands, startled from his reverie, pushing his hair from his eyes as the students file out of the class room. Shoves his notebook back in his bag before Will can see the sketch. 

Will notices Hannibal quickly. It makes Hannibal's chest ache to see the soft smile on his face as he waves and steps closer around the throng of students.

"Hey. Hannibal, hi." 

"Hi."

Will's eyes dart around, curious. "Did - do you have class over here?"

Hannibal looks at his feet and then back at Will, down again. "No. Uh. I uh came to see you, actually. So…"

"Oh. Okay." Will smiles to himself, but Hannibal feels it in his knees. Will is pretty. There is no other word for it. With his denim jacket and lip gloss on his mouth. Hannibal can hardly stand it.

"Right. Yeah, I thought maybe you'd want to get a coffee or something. There's a little place on campus."

Will puckers his mouth as if in thought. Adjusts his bag around his shoulders. "With you?"

"If you wanted."

"I think I could stand that," Will concedes. He smiles and brushes his hand along the inside of Hannibal's elbow, gently like a question. His fingernails are painted a shimmering gold and black that they weren't last night. 

Without a second thought, heart in the back of his throat, Hannibal takes Will's fingers into his own, knotting them together. Will has a mood ring on. It changes to a deep purple as they watch their hands.

"Means nervous," Will mumbles. He looks back up at Hannibal. "Or excited. I can't ever remember which is which."

The blush on his cheeks could mean either.

The walk to the coffee shop is short, not so much holding hands as tangled fingers, really. Hannibal wants a cigarette, but Will twists their hands as they walk, brushing his hip and Hannibal can't think.

Will orders another hazelnut cappuccino, Hannibal another black coffee and they find a seat by the window.

"So," Will starts, "I'll be polite and not mention that I never mentioned my English class this morning." He looks at Hannibal through his lashes.

Hannibal smiles and rolls his eyes. "And I'll never mention how I found you."

Will laughs, throaty and covers his mouth, shakes his head. 

"I like your style, Hannibal." 

"My style?"

"Yeah, your whole self deprecating, half grunge, completely stalker look you got going on." Will laughs again, good naturedly.

Hannibal pulls his cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lights one, never taking his eyes off of Will. Leaves room for him to talk if he is going to. 

"I'm glad you did - find me," Will continues, not blinking through Hanninal's smoke. "Alana told me about you."

Will's fingernail polish catches the light as he sips his coffee between both hands. Hannibal watches the press of his lips against the mug.

"What did Alana tell you?" Hannibal asks quietly.

Will pauses. Tucks his hair back. "That you're a good guy. That people don't get you. That you're the smartest pre-med student here." He looks directly into his coffee. "That you would like me, too."

Hannibal breathes out a laugh. "You know what? She said the same thing to me about you."

Will looks out the window with a small smile. "Fuck." Then a whisper to himself more than to Hannibal, "fuck."

"Look, don't ask me how I know, but you have class in twenty minutes and that's just enough time to down the rest of your coffee before you leave me to think about you the rest of the day, so can I get your number or your dorm floor?"

Will laughs again and Hannibal wants to hear it forever. That husky little sound. 

Will bites the cap from a marker and tugs Hannibal's hand close. "My number," he says around the cap as he writes on Hannibal's palm, up his wrist. He pushes the shirtsleeve up. "My dorm floor and number. Frederick has class all day tomorrow. You probably already know I just have one in the morning."

Hannibal stares transfixed at the numbers on his skin, wants them etched there forever. He nods a little dumbly. 

"After?"

"Yeah," Will says. "My lecture is over at 10. You should come by."

Will stands and adjusts his bag, ready to go. Hannibal's heart hammers hard in his neck as Will leans close. They don't kiss; Hannibal leaves that up to Will. Instead Will touches his forehead to Hannibal's, and smiles as he steals his cigarette. 

\--

There is an invisible cord from Hannibal to Will. There is a tug that Hannibal feels that is unmistakable, an ache when he arrives home, alone with nothing but the memory of Will's face so close to his own. His lips so near. He anticipates the morning like a child on Christmas. 

He calls Alana.

"Hannibal, how are you?"

"Taken with Will Graham." Hannibal pulls his hair from its tie and flops on his bed. He covers his eyes and waits for Alana to stop giggling at him. She tells him he would be.

"I'm invited to his dorm tomorrow."

"Well that's nice," Alana says. "He's not much for people. He must like you, then."

"Yeah. Here's hoping. I think he does."

"I'm sure he does."

Hannibal sighs and looks to the ceiling. No person has caught him so quickly before, like a fish on a hook. Will has enchanted him.

"Why does Will not like people?"

"Oh," Alana huffs. "Because of the way he dresses. People aren't accustomed to it and it freaks them out and it's like hello it's the 90s! But Will is very expressive with his gender and people aren't okay with that, I guess."

"I think he's gorgeous."

"I knew you would." Hannibal can hear Beverly in the background and Alana say something with her hand over the phone. "Anyway, Hannibal, I have to go. I'll see you soon."

"Sure."

Hannibal hangs up and wonders if he can call Will. If the hours in which they haven't seen each other have been long enough or if he should wait until the morning. He doesn't want to wait. He wants to hear the gentle rumble of Will's voice in his ear, warming him to his core. He wants Will's face close again, that for just a moment they are breathing the same air. The smell of Hannibal's cigarettes on Will's skin. 

The phone is trolling in his ear before he can talk himself out of it.

"Hello?"

"Will?"

"Hannibal. Hi. Miss me or something?"

"You could say that."

Hannibal can hear sounds, muffled and a door click shut. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. Oh no, Frederick. I just went in my room. Hi."

"Hi." He was right. The sound of Will's voice is making him warm and comfortable. He scoots up in the bed, against the headboard, legs drawn in to rest his forehead on his knees. Without a thought, he says, "describe your room to me."

"You'll see it tomorrow," Will laughs. 

"Oh, you'll invite me to your room?"

A pause, heavy with intentions, with possibilities. "I mean. Yeah, I guess."

Hannibal's voice grows soft. "Do you want me to tell you what your room looks like?"

The gulp from Will's end of the line is an audible one. "Okay."

"All freshman dorms are the same. So your door starts in a corner. The room itself is small, which you don't like because you like to spread out. You always did with the things you do. Will Graham likes his space. Your desk is piled high with non fiction books and criminology texts, all very textbook but in the drawers of the desk is where you hide your make up, your romance novels, your nail polish. You have a chest of drawers, because the dorms don't have closets, it's probably used or wicker but its special to you in some way and it's full of clothes that make you look edible. Like those shorts you wore the night before last. And then, Will, there is your bed."

"What about it?" Will sounds breathless and small, quiet.

"It's your sanctuary," Hannibal whispers. "Nobody knows you or sees you when you're in your bed and nobody can judge you. You're simply your own beautiful self. I bet… you sleep in lingerie or nothing at all. Tell me how right I am, please."

Hannibal can feel his face hotter than the sun and he is half hard in his pants, legs spread out now to accommodate. He wants to touch. He can see so clearly the things Will does in that bed when he is alone without a care in the world. It nearly strangles the air from his throat.

"Hannibal…" Will almost sighs his name. 

"Tell me, Will, if I'm right." Hannibal's voice is tight.

"You're right," Will chokes. "I don't sleep in anything."

They both breathe quietly with this information. Hannibal clenches the phone in his hand and tries to picture Will in his mind, half asleep, naked in bed, hair a mess. 

"I bet you're gorgeous," Hannibal whispers. "I bet the sheets are jealous of how soft your skin is."

"Stop, Hannibal."

"You don't want me to. You want somebody to tell you how pretty you are, Will. And I can be that person. Hell, I want to be that person. I want to be the one to tell you all about how nice it would be to suck you off."

Will makes a startled little noise over the line that sounds like Hannibal's name. 

"I mean it, Will. I don't just want to suck your cock, I want you choking me on it, fucking my mouth so that I can't breathe with it. I want you all around me. I've never wanted anybody as badly as I want you."

"Hannibal, fuck you can't. You can't just say shit like that."

"Will, please."

Hannibal could cry or come with his admission. He gets his pants undone and a hand into his boxers, stroking slow and tight. He thinks of Will on the other end doing the same.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Hannibal. Jesus, yes. Ever since you started talking about my room."

"You're perfect, Will. Just think of me, teasing you with my tongue. Go slow. Tell me how good your hand feels right now."

"Hannibal, please oh God. It's good. It's not you though. I wish it was you. I want you to feel how hard I can get for you."

"I know. Would you fuck my mouth, Will?"

"Yes oh please yes, fuck." Will moans something guttural over the line and the sound goes straight to Hannibal's dick. 

Hannibal spreads his legs wider. His cock pulses wet but he doesn't come yet. 

"Will. Will I want you," Hannibal strokes himself faster. He can hear Will whimpering, little breathy gasps, each sound pulling at his heart. "I could come just from listening to you."

With that, Will's end goes silent, drawn out and then a heavy breath in the speaker, a laugh. "Oh my God."

"Was it good?" Hannibal asks because he has to know. He has to see it in his mind, how Will just came all over himself in his dorm room because Hannibal spoke him into it.

"Shhhh," Will whispers. "It's your turn. If you haven't already. I might've blacked out for a second." He sounds punch drunk.

"Come on, Hannibal," Will speaks with a blissed out voice. "Come for me and I'll let you suck my cock tomorrow."

Hannibal needs no more incentive than that. He grunts and exhales as he comes and allows the image of Will come covered sneak into his mind.

"This wasn't my intention when I called."

"Yeah, but I'm not really complaining," Will laughs. 

\--

Hannibal isn't desperate, but he chain smokes until just after 10am. He dresses quickly (black denim white t-shirt red and black flannel) ties his hair up and heads toward the freshmen dorms. 

He knocks on Will's front door and he can hear music inside, muffled. 

Will answers the door in a long floral skirt, denim jacket he always wears, bare feet. He smiles and drags his fingers through his hair, wild and free today. He looks stunning. Hannibal says as much and is content with the blush along Woll's cheeks in response. 

"Come on, my room is this way." Will grabs Hannibal's sleeve and ducks his head as he leads the way to a small bedroom much like the one Hannibal described the night before. 

The walls are slate gray, a lava lamp churns orange blobs in its glass on the desk, the bed is unmade. Will waves a hand. "This is it."

A record player on the floor in the corner doubles to play cassettes and Will puts one in. It's something Hannibal hasn't heard before, but it's slow and he likes it.

They sit on the floor, crossed legged, facing each other. 

"I kind of just want to see if kissing you is as good as I'm building it up to be in my head," Will says playing with the hem of his skirt. He looks up at Hannibal. "Is that dumb?"

"No. I want to, too."

Will crawls the small space between them, hand on Hannibal's knee, foreheads together.

"Come on, beautiful, and just kiss me."

Hannibal tilts Will's chin with a finger and kisses him instead. A soft kiss, something to be remembered. He winds his fingers through Will's hair and he sighs at the feel of it, silky smooth. Will leans back on his heels so Hannibal raises up on his knees. A swift give and take. Their tongues meet in the middle and Will grips Hannibal's hip hard at the sensation. 

"Will," Hannibal breaks away for a breath. He smiles. "It's better than I dreamed."

He kisses Will's lips then his chin, then down his throat, fingers in his hair. 

"You smell so fucking good," Hannibal groans, totally wrecked already. He can taste perfume and lip gloss and he is way in over his head and drowning so deeply in this boy that he might as well be dead.

"Thanks, um. I don't remember what it's called."

"Doesn't matter."

Hannibal is giddy with touch. It doesn't matter what the perfume is called. It matters that Will is warm under his hands. They kiss again, feverish and new. Hannibal tips them back, Will on his back, Hannibal above him and all is right in the world. He can feel Will getting hard under him. That feeling through a skirt is thrilling for some reason. 

"You're fucking gorgeous. Let me hike up your skirt, sweetheart."

Hannibal can feel the warmth of Will's thighs as he drags the material up and up and up over his knees and thighs to reveal pink candy cane striped cotton panties.

Hannibal can feel his mouth water at the sight of Will's cock through the panties. Will is compliant and making all the right sounds, quiet and breathy as Hannibal just lays his fingers across the outline of his dick, caressing and nothing more.

He looks to Will's face. "No, Will, don't hide. I want you to watch me."

Hannibal curls his fingers under the waist of the panties and tugs them down to mid thigh. Will's skirt is bunched up at his hips and his panties are around his thighs and he can't move for Hannibal hovering over him. 

Hannibal sucks a bruise to Will's hips, working his fingers around his cock, smooth as velvet. It's making him hard in his jeans. Will's cock is perfect. Pink and curved at the tip, leaking just a little.

"Will. Watch me."

Hannibal keeps his eyes locked on Will's as he sinks his mouth down the length of Will's cock. He lets out a soft moan at the taste on his tongue, it's so good, immediately he's palming himself through his pants.

"Fuck. Fuck me, your mouth."

Will's hips push up and Hannibal grasps for his hands. They cling to each other as Hannibal sucks the head, tongues the slit and takes him back down again. 

Will keeps pushing his hips up and Hannibal keeps trying to time it with his down stroke so he can feel it in his throat. It's so good. It's never been this good. He moans around Will's dick so he can feel the vibrations.

"Jesus, I'm close already. Fuck, Hannibal."

Hannibal feels smug. He jerks Will off with one hand and swirls his tongue along the head and Will is coming in his mouth and on his lips.

Hannibal savors it like a man starving. Will catches his breath, beautiful and giggles to himself like a secret. 

"What?"

Will shrugs against the carpet. "Just like you, I guess."

"You guess? I just ate your dick."

Will flips his skirt down to cover himself. He watches Hannibal use his shirt sleeve to wipe his swollen mouth clean. He grips Hannibal's hips as he sits up. 

"Let me touch you."

Hannibal hears the song switch around them. It's slow still and he wants to commit it to memory. His heart starts to beat loudly in his ears the second Will gets his hand on him, though. 

Will gasps at the feel of it. "Shit, you're big." Hannibal just rocks into each stroke, fingers carding through Will's hair. It's never felt like this before. Will's hand is just right. Slow and steady. Tight and wet from his tongue. 

"You tasted so good," Hannibal hisses between strokes. "I almost came when you did."

"Yeah? You like sucking my dick? You can have me however and whenever you want me, Hannibal." Will whispers savagely. "I'll let you fuck me, huh. Yeah?"

Hannibal nods frantic, grips Will's shoulders. "Kiss me, beautiful."

Will kisses him with fire. His hand doesn't speed up, the same tight slow pace, but something about the kiss punches Hannibal's orgasm from him and he comes hard into Will's hand.

The music slows to a stop. Will cleans them up with tissues from the bedside table. They are left with silence. Hannibal kisses Will until it hurts to breathe. 

\--


End file.
